


coup de théâtre

by venomousOctopus



Category: Octopath Traveler (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Dark Magic, Final Dungeon Spoilers, M/M, Stabbing, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 00:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15569946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venomousOctopus/pseuds/venomousOctopus
Summary: Scene IAct ISETTING: A town in the midpoint of the FLATLANDS, called NOBLECOURT, home to many noble families with too-many connections. A quaint town, with stone paths, a fountain, and several stores, wealthy and flourishing. The nobles and villagers are talking in the streets amicably, and you wouldn't even be able to tell that something lurked underneath the sunny town's roadsAT RISE: (the then un-named) MATTIAS wanders through it's streets, a torn blue coat draped over his form and carrying a worn-down scepter. He walks aimlessly, but he steps across the stage with confidence and experience. He stops to hear the chatters, rumours about Hornburg, of rival families, of upset aristocrats, and smiles





	coup de théâtre

**Author's Note:**

> this was originally going to be about me trying to make sense of the obsidians (bc seriously, the more lore you learn about them, the less sense they make) but then i decided fuck it, and made this a ship, thing. instead  
> Thank you Chris @marinosepass for betaing this for me
> 
> This is tagged slight AU bc I retconned Jeffrey's murder to be 5 years ago instead of 10
> 
> Edit: in light of realizing Simeon is actually just as much an immortal as Mattias is, and is a prince from the Ventus Dynasty that set up the Obsidians with Mattias for over a century (SERIOUSLY THEY REALLY JUST DROPPED THIS INFO IN THE GUIDEBOOK), this fic is now a full AU now. Carry on.

So, Hornburg had fallen.

He had lived a long life, seen Noble Houses rise and fall, watched the tribes of the Sunlands unite in peace, and watched as the Greenwoods tribe was wiped out. The Kingdom of Hornburg had seemed an eternity- an unbreakable fortress. A kingdom that stood proud from since when he was a little boy, and one he thought would continue to do so for ages beyond.

But it had fallen, with King Alfred felled by one of his most loyal leiges.

Though perhaps, that was simply the final blow to the already cracking foundation. He had travelled enough to hear tells of unrest in the border towns, and of dissatisfaction among the paupers. It was inevitable; with their benevolent King no longer there to unite them, the houses would fight for control, leaving the civilians in-between their bloody conflict. A perfect opportunity to spread his influence, he would’ve thought otherwise, but there was a chill among the news that he couldn’t shake off.

The tell-tale whisper of death had pulsated along his skin. He’s had it for so long that he had all but accustomed to it, but even now, he could tell the pull of the power was much stronger than it had been before. Despite his control, he knew that something within him wanted to meet with her again- Galdera’s daughter. And of course, _of course_ , she was somehow involved in all this.

Galdera was a mighty God, with the ability to perform miracles that Aelfric, Dohter, Alephan- none of the others could even hope to. But one thing he knew more than any is that miracles were weighted with a toll. For every broken bone he’d healed, someone else must never walk once more.

He couldn’t let her revive Him.

He’d be enough- Aelfric was nothing but a cheap comfort, and Lords and Kings would fall one day. The Saviour is all that this world needed, and all that would save the ones who needed it.

 

XXXXX

 

Perhaps it was fate that led him to Simeon.

It had been a year since the fall of Horburg, and his powers had only seemed to grow in ability. In a way, he supposed he should be grateful for Lyblac, but he knew that whatever he did would only make reaching her own motives that much easier. He couldn’t face her, as every part of him would cry out against harming his patron God’s daughter, but if he lost control of his abilities-

Perhaps it was fate that led him to heal a man on the brink of death, a man named Albus. A man that was marked as a target by the shadows of a town called Noblecourt.

He was summoned immediately- whisked away into the night by shadowy cloaks and deathly-quiet winds. The dark force within him ached, and he could already feel it longing to drag down the life of the people around him.

Not that he cared; for one to live, one must die. Galdera, at His best, had always been a being of balance.

Dumped unceremoniously in a cellar he couldn’t recognize (they really had improved on the technology in this regard), he was brought to face three men. He had heard hushed whispers and rumours about them, an organization slowly inching through the cracks of Noblecourt, but he hadn’t paid it much mind in his visit. There was always some conflict, some disorder, no matter where he visited. They were as cyclical as the winds on the sea, and though it had paid off in some respects to pay heed to them, he needed a larger conflict to truly bring about the faith he so wished to give to people.

The depths of despair Albus had- once realizing how powerless he was to the town’s shadow- had caused him to forsake Aelfric’s name. That man was a perfect target, how could it have come to this?

“You did something you shouldn’t have, ya know that?” one of the men said. He was standing too close to the cellar for comfort.

“I am aware, but do please forgive my ignorance, I was not aware of your plans for him”

“If word got out, we would be in big, big, trouble.” tsked another man. “But you wouldn’t say anything- would you?”

“Even if I said I wouldn’t, you would still make sure I wouldn’t, no?”

“A cheeky one, ain’t ya.” The one close to the cell replied. He was grinning toothily, but it immediately shifted into a grimace, his eyes popping with fear. He watched impassively as the guard dropped to the ground, clutching the stone tiles with shaky fingers.

“What- what are you-” a cough, garbled and pained, wracked the guard’s entire body, and the other two men could do nothing but stare in panic as he collapsed. Soon, they joined him, the dark tendrils of accursed power looping and shifting along their ankles.

It couldn’t be helped, but he huffed regardless. He hoped he could’ve at least talked them into giving him the key before this could happen.

The cell block was deathly silent, and before even hearing the footsteps, a melodic voice was heard across the room. “Bravo, bravo. Truly, that was a show worth the effort of capturing you.”

He whipped around to face the voice of the newcomer- and was surprised to find that it was a man with short white hair. He could _not_ have been older than the wee age of 18, yet the way he carried himself was akin to the too-haughty Kings and Lords he had been all too familiar with on his travels. He didn’t realize it then, but the man- Simeon- proved himself far more dangerous than he could ever realize.

“And may I ask who you are? Are you involved with this organization?”

“You could say something like that.” Simeon stepped towards the cell, not even bothering to look at the men that lay still at his feet.

“Are you not-” he gestured to the men on the floor, then at himself. The white-haired man only looked at him quizzically, before waving his hand.

“Ohoho, well, the thrill of the unknown dangers makes this all the more exciting, don’t you think? Though judging by my lack of a cough, those powers of yours had ran dry, hadn’t it?”

“...Well I require someone to open this door.” he looked to the side, letting his back rest against the damp cellar walls. “It would be fool of me to trap myself in here by eliminating all my options.”

“Hmm, is that so?” Simeon put a hand on his chin, and tipped his head.

He looked to the man, “I suggest you let me out, lest you want the same fate to befall you.”

“That would simply be too _boring_ , don’t you think?” Simeon laughed, so chilling, that the coat couldn’t warm the ice prickling in his veins. “No, I think I shall stick around to watch what befalls.”

“Hmph. Suit yourself.”

Simeon hadn’t said anything, only watching with rapt interest. Simeon’s stare was- for lack of a better word, too probing. Even in the edge of his cell, beneath his layer of coats and the ginger hair that obscured his face, he found that Simeon seemed to look right through him. It was unsettling, how nonchalant the youth was among the bodies of dead men, looking at him like he was a particularly interesting mural in a Lord’s art gallery.

Later he would realize that nothing but boredom fueled the man’s actions. There was no tragic tale, no family to avenge, no motive of power. He was simply a young boy with an uncanny ability to read a person and too much time on his hands.

And boredom was what motivated Simeon to simply let him go. The man hovered around him like a student hanging onto a scholar’s every word, but even back then he knew it was out of some twisted _fascination_ than any respect. He didn’t run into any other members of that organization that night, and it was with growing dread that he realized that _he_ was the leader of them.

“Would you mind staying for the show, then?” Simeon had asked, a smile that he had no doubt had lulled many on his lips. “A part such as you could bring some much-needed excitement to this troupe, it gives me shivers just thinking of it!”

“And if I say no?”

“Then it would be a shame, but really, it’s not as if you have a choice in the manner. It would be too easy, even if I were to be eliminated, for a warning to spread. Can you do anything when the entirety of Orsterra is out for your blood?”

He was sure he was bluffing, but regardless, making enemies would simply make his task that much harder. And with Lyblac already making her move, he didn’t know how much time he had at his disposal before Galdera relinquished his power completely.

For now he could play along with a mad man’s whims.

“I can see what I can do” he had said.

“Excellent. I am Simeon, the so-called puppet master and head Crow of the Obsidians,” (Gods, how needlessly dramatic.) “-and you?”

Names had become irrelevant at his point. He had said a different one every moment of his new existence, and abandoned the one that he had carried when he was with the Church. “You may call me The Saviour.”

“As much as I love a good allegory,  if I were to refer to you, I do need a name.”

He was christened with a new name then: Mattias. It seemed like money and an extensive connection really could provide everything, and nothing proved that more than the Obsidians and the enigmatic youth that ran it. Albus had ended up joining them as the Right Hand of the Crow, twisting Mattias’ salvation as a mercy of the Obsidians instead. “Consider it reparations for your own freedom.”, Simeon had said to him, when Mattias objected to being conned out of a follower.

“You and I should get to know each other better, don’t you think?” Simeon had said a few days later, in the depths of a forest outside of Noblecourt. He had a garden there, in keeping with his role as the Azelhart’s gardener. Watching him tend to them like this, Mattias could almost believe that he was just a noble-born son.

Before seeing him snap his fingers and light the petals in tiny flames- one by one, they sparked into blue. Shining like the rows of candelabras from days too long ago, in churches long gone- only to be extinguished and left dead as quick as it lit. Simeon laughed, and sat among the ashes when they faded. It wasn’t enough to curb his boredom, Mattias could tell, but he seemed satisfied for now.

“I’d rather not.”

“Come now, if you were to work under my organization, it would be more beneficial for you.”

“Any information in your hands is a liability I would rather not risk.”

“Ahaha, a cautious one.”

“Let me turn the question to _you,_ then, Simeon. What do you hope to gain out of my aid?”

“Hm?”

“If you need someone to kill for you, there are others, and my... powers are a hazard to you, are they not?”

Simeon sighed, crossing his legs. “You miss the point entirely, Mattias. That is exactly why I wish for your aid.”

“...Pardon?”

“Your tale has...potential.” he hummed, letting the ash of the flowers powder his fingers. “The balance of life and death, the tragedy of betrayal- you descend upon the most downtrodden to give them your aid, do you not?”

“...And what of it?”

“Nothing, really, I just think it’s interesting.” He turned to look at Mattias. “You know of the Kindling Pilgrimage, do you not?”

Oh _did_ he. Mattias didn’t say anything, only looking to the side.

“When I was younger, my parents would always tell me stories of it- of the noble Flamebearers who would pass through the great churches to light the flames, always aiding the people along the way” Simeon’s gaze turned dark. “It was always so dreadfully boring”

“Hm?”

“Teaching children of grief, helping downtrodden widows and their children, saving a local merchant from a bandit- the Flamebearers always came to aid, and nothing ever befell them. Carrying out their duty was a noble cause, but it was _boring_ , there was no _conflict_. I truly hated it.”

“Is there a point here?”

Simeon turned to look at him, truly, _look_ at him. “Your tale is a tragic one- everything about you points to something beyond just this, beyond all of us. And for a character of faith, your methods are simply so unlike I’ve ever seen.”

Mattias twitched, and curled into the coat around him. It was always so unsettling how much Simeon seemed to deduce.

“Finding people at their lowest points, when in their truest depths of despair, and giving them salvation _only_ in that moment- have you experienced something similar, perhaps?”

Simeon simply laughed at the glare Mattias gave him, and waved him off. “Oh do not tell me, it shall be far more satisfying to watch this play out for myself.”

Mattias almost wanted to spoil the truth himself, let the boy’s anticipation die right then and there, all too quick and unceremoniously. He knew he’d hate that, but making an enemy out of Simeon would probably cause him more trouble than it was worth. And if he entertained him well enough…

Well, he still had to deal with Lyblac.

“I can agree to a potential alliance, but I would like to offer up my own condition.”

“Oh? Do tell!”

“There are some...obstacles that I can not handle on my own.” If he kept it vague enough, perhaps Simeon would be more likely to find interest in it. “How much do you know of Galdera?”

“The Fallen God? Is that the source of your powers, Mattias?”

Damn him for being so perceptive.

“Yes. Galdera is a being of incredible power, He wields power over life and death. If I weaken the bonds holding him back...suffice to say, I should gain more power as well.”

“Is that so? I assume his bonds are, what, a forbidden gate? Some precious heirlooms? That seem common in these stories, no?”

Mattias’ eyebrows twitched in irritation, but he willed himself to stay calm. It would be too boring to react the way he wanted.

“I will tell you this, there is one other who seeks Him as well. However, if she were to find him… I promise you, everything you or I had worked for would be wiped out.” Mattias levelled a gaze at him. “And not in a very exciting way either.”

Simeon actually seemed to contemplate it for a moment, and cocked his head. “So you’d like me to eliminate her?”

“Perhaps, or if you would be interested, you could research what she’s looking into.” Mattias would be lying if he wasn’t a bit curious too. “The world is far bigger than the houses of Noblecourt, as you can probably figure by now.”

“You truly know how to keep my heart racing, don’t you?” Simeon laughed, and promptly stood up. “Very well. I shall take your offer. In exchange, I ask you to simply do as you wish.”

A pause, and Mattias raised his eyebrow “...Really?”

“I told you, did I not? You’re _interesting_.” The rustle of the grass beneath his feet was at once both inaudible and deafening. Even in the middle of damp forest, Simeon commanded attention, and it was all too easy to imagine the shine of a spotlight over his form, every word a practiced monologue. “You and I are both one in the same, we seek out the lowest point of a person’s life. It’s fascinating, what lengths a person will go in their lowest point, what they would give up, what they value most and what they would sacrifice for their survival.”

“I wouldn’t call it that.” In comparison, his own voice felt like a mere whisper.

“It’s beautiful, is what it is. In such a boring world like this, true and utter despair is the only thing that’s worth seeking out.” The glance Simeon gave him was at once both innocent and horrifying. “So I only want to know what you subject to them, and what you accomplish. Someone like you is a liability to everything I do, but that simply makes this show all the more worthwhile, doesn’t it?”

Everything in his body cried out against trusting him. For all he knew, Simeon could be setting him up for his own downfall one day. It was far too late to join the ranks of anyone else, however, and in the path he walked, he had no other choice than to let shadows follow him. With a moment of hesitation, he took the hand Simeon had offered, and shook it.

 

XXXXX

 

In a short year and a half, the Obsidians had extended it’s influence to beyond Noblecourt- out to the far reaches of Sunshade, out to Grandport on the other side of the sea, and up to Stillsnow and even Northreach. Simeon did exactly as he had asked, and with his help, Mattias had managed to land himself a position as the head of a merchant company. New as it was, with a few recommendations from some high-end nobles here, some bribes for the church there, the Leoniel Consortium had become the go-to company for all the church’s needs. It was incredible, really, and all he had to do was heal someone Simeon needed him to, or more often, get rid of the ones he didn’t. The man always listened with rapt attention when Mattias told him of his deeds, and whenever Simeon rambled on about the young lady of Azelhart and her pathetic infatuation with him, Mattias found that he didn’t mind too much.

Perhaps he was getting too used to all this. The thought made him sick, and it itched and crawled inside him whenever he ended up lounging in one of the private VIP rooms of the Everhold theatre. Only a madman would trust someone like Simeon, but he couldn’t deny that having company after all these years was a comfortable change of pace.

It only made him feel more restless- and every moment he couldn’t help but wonder if today was the day that Simeon got bored with him and drive a dagger through his heart. It wasn’t as if he was known among the other members of the Obsidians, he never had a proper position. Whether the fact Simeon kept him away was due to his own desire to use him solely or to make it easier to get rid of him, he didn’t know. But one thing was for certain: Simeon didn’t trust him either. And for a man like him, that had cemented Mattias position.

“Geoffrey Azelhart has been doing a bit too much research” Simeon said, cradling a glass of wine. “He is aware of the Gate of Finis.”

Mattias hadn’t looked up from his own glass, his form splayed across the extravagant couches of the room. “...That is a problem, isn’t it?”

Even more impressive than it’s quick influence over so many cities, was the fact that the Obsidians had managed to find out about the truth of the rumours that trailed behind Galdera. Words of the fallen Kingdom of Hornburg being orchestrated due to the Gate, House Ravus’ Dragonstones that were required to open the gate (they had tried to obtain it for themselves, but Lyblac had already gotten it. Though most were scattered across the land, in the hands of scholars and thieves, Mattias could tell the woman had already used them). And most importantly- tales of a bloodline said to hold the key to the Dark God’s awakening. With Lyblac already so far ahead of him, finding and eliminating the Crossford line was the only hopes they had left to make sure her plan failed.

But still, such information in the hands of others would be a nuisance. Simeon had been rocking with glee at the news, finally having an excuse to kill the man that had been a thorn in the Obsidian’s side for so long.  

“How much do the others know of all this, Simeon?”

“You worry too much, dear, far as the other crows know, the Gate is simply an artifact of great power.”

He smirked, taking another sip of the wine. “I simply don’t want my good word to be compromised with your involvement, that is all.”

“You preach the word of a Fallen God, Mattias, I would hardly say you’re above me.” He strolled over, plopping himself down on the other end of the couch. “And don’t you crave the power of Galdera just as much?”

“Power is meant to be used, is it not?”

“Precisely.” Simeon had moved closer then, hovering over his form. His legs pressed against either side of his, but that touch had become familiar now. “For all you preach about bringing miracles, you seek that power for your own self, don’t you?”

Mattias glanced to the side.

“I am truly getting tired of that, you know.” Simeon glowered. “At least make it more interesting when I get something right about you.”

“You are on the nose then, oh _dear_ Simeon” Mattias rolled his eyes. “Is that what you prefer?”

“It will do for now.” Simeon used his hand to brush back the other man’s hair, staring straight into his eyes. Though Mattias tried to seem impassive, the shiver that wracked down his spine was too akin to when he first met Lyblac all those decades ago.

“But truly, power is such a _simple_ goal.” He continued, “Many men seek it out, whether it be for their own satisfaction or whether it be because they were never given such. Do you know how easy it is to manipulate the ones who seek it?” Mattias felt an ice-cold hand brush against his cheek. “Do you?”

“...Very.”

“But power can, at times, be a comforting thing.” The hand that curled through his hair felt too far away, it hardly registered, as did Simeon’s bangs brushing against his cheek. “With no one to rely on, with so much betraying you, having power can be protection against such harsh realities.”

A hand stopped at his chest, playing with the buttons of his newly-bought coat. “Take the Azelharts, for example. ‘Faith shall be my shield’. With nothing but their own sense of justice driving them, they do nothing but amass the power they need to keep their convictions. Poor, poor Lady Primrose, I remember quite vividly when she would come to me to cry about how harsh her training was. Too much power was placed on her shoulders, and it’s quite tragic how she still feels so strongly about her own family’s motto. I daresay that she has nothing else, really.”

“But you don’t care, do you?”

“It’s simply tragic, is all. I do wonder how she would react when she finds her dear father murdered. Or even- even if she would put her power to use. For all the training she received, she’s still a naive, ignorant girl. I wonder, when the time comes, would she be able to act?”

“It’s quite bad manners to be talking about another girl while you’re on top of me, isn’t it?”

“Are you jealous?”

“Hardly, I just tire of hearing you speak.”

Simeon laughed, giddy and bubbly, not even hesitating when he slipped a dagger from his coat and jammed it through Mattias’ palm.

The pain was immediate, and Mattias hissed, bucking under him out of pure instinct. He shut his eyes and willed his hand to still, the dark tendrils burning his skin as it shoved the steel out and clattering onto the ground. He didn’t register what was happening until he heard a scream mirror his, and felt a weight jolt back from him. Watching Simeon cradle his hand, shaking from the pain (had he never had anyone strike back against him?), eased every itch that had persisted in his veins. The puppet-master’s blood dripped onto the expensive Hornburgian fabric, and even then Simeon had a delirious smile on his face, eyes half-lidded like he was _expecting_ this. Still and Silence, he could hear nothing but silence, the world felt as if it had shifted, like a play that had stopped mid-scene, actors breaking out of their roles and the illusion snapping back to something _outside_ of it.

Is this what Simeon had been seeking all along?

Mattias’ palm, marked with the tell-tale burn of the Fallen God, pressed against Simeon’s bleeding one when he cradled it like the Princes from Simeon’s horrendous plays. The role he had come to play felt so stifling now, and he laughed- laughed free and airy as he hadn’t done for a century.  

Is this what a marionette felt? Held up by the strings of a being far greater than it could ever hope to know? Is this what it felt without the strings, a body moving but with no rhyme or reason, no directions to follow through? His body didn’t feel like his own, but yet, more _his_ than Galdera’s at this moment. Pulling Simeon down by his hand, he let his other find rest on the man’s chin, and his voice felt melodious, practiced. “Now- don’t you have a Lord to be taking care of?”

 

XXXXX

 

So, Simeon had fallen. Stabbed through the chest by the dagger of the girl he so yearned to see suffer.

Mattias couldn’t say he didn’t expect it. And when Simeon was babbling about his stage set for seeing the Young Lady of Azelhart again, a part of him knew that Simeon was building up to his finale. What a needlessly dramatic man, how utterly pathetic.

A part of him wondered if this fate of his was also Simeon’s doing, lying on the cold damp ground of a forgotten grotto- a priestess of the Sacred Flame who should have never been involved standing proud above him.

“I am a naive girl, we’re both naive girls. But we knew the love of our father!”

How completely nauseating. A fairy-tale ending to the oh so beautiful tale of the Kindling Pilgrimage. Simeon would have found it _so_ cliched.

“Love...hah, I don’t need such-” The power that usually thrummed through his being felt nothing but an anchor now, and he could feel it clawing at his flesh, longing to drag him down as he did so many others before.

In the end, Galdera claimed him. Without a grande exit, without the rising pitch of an orchestra and rumbles of horns in it’s wake, without the gasp of an audience cheering for the villain’s defeat, without the triumphant victory cry and curtain call of all it’s best heroes. He had died as he was born anew. At His best, Galdera had always been a being of balance.

**Author's Note:**

> Some other headcanons that i couldnt add into the fic but is worth mentioning:
> 
> -Simeon's inspiration for even starting the Obsidians was Hornburg's fall. Or more like, he found the fall to be so ~dramatic~ and ~life-changing~ that he figured he could also change the fate of the world himself (he was 17 at the time)
> 
> -Simeon is 3 years older than Primrose (and she would have been 17/Simeon 20 when her dad died)
> 
> -Due to the fact that she was older when Geoffrey got murdered, part of Prim's desire to take revenge is also out of her inability to act when he did. Even though she learned a lot of battle techniques and skills, she was still relatively naive to the Obsidians bc Geoffrey protected her from them, and she carries deep regrets about it


End file.
